Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Darman, Peter

  ‘You intend to divide the army?’

  ‘That is correct, my friend,’ I said. ‘The horse can break through the enemy while I keep Mithridates and Narses occupied. If they know that I am still in camp they will let you go.’

  Orodes folded his arms. ‘I will not desert the army.’

  ‘Neither will I,’ added Surena, earning him a scowl from Domitus.

  I pointed at Surena. ‘You will obey orders.’

  I looked at Orodes. ‘I cannot order you to do anything, my friend, and nor would I attempt to. But as a friend I ask you to do this. With you leading them the cavalry stands a good chance of getting back to Dura.’

  Orodes said nothing, which I took to mean that he accepted the charge, though he wore a deeply unhappy expression.

  ‘And after the horse have left, what then?’ enquired Domitus.

  ‘If the legions stay here they will be destroyed,’ I said. ‘Our only option is to march northwest across the desert towards Hatran territory.’ I traced my finger from where we were presently trapped to the southern frontier of my father’s kingdom. ‘The distance is around eighty or ninety miles.’

  ‘Four days’ march,’ said Domitus.

  ‘I fear it will take longer than that,’ I replied. ‘Marcus, what is the situation regarding our water supplies?’

  Marcus stroked his chin as he stared at the map, then he looked up. ‘The water wagons are nearly full, though they will be emptied soon enough if we stay here.’

  ‘And if all the horses and camels are removed from camp?’ I asked.

  He weighed up the figures in his mind, gently moving his head from side to side. ‘If that is so then we have enough water to last for ten days, though it will have to be rationed strictly.’

  ‘Thank you, Marcus.’ I looked at Orodes. ‘You see, my friend, how it is impossible for the horses and camels to remain. Our only chance is for you to take the cataphracts, horse archers, squires and camels and strike west for the Euphrates.’

  ‘That still leaves over twelve thousand men and thousands of mules,’ remarked Domitus.

  ‘Over twelve thousand plus one, for I shall be staying,’ I said, attempting levity. Domitus’ narrowing eyes told me I had failed.

  I looked at him. ‘You know that mules are hardier than horses, can endure extremes of heat and cold and can survive on limited amounts of water. Without the mules we lose the tents, tools, spare weapons, armour, supplies and Marcus’ siege engines.’

  ‘To say nothing of the wounded,’ said Alcaeus, speaking for the first time.

  ‘What is the position regarding the wounded?’ I asked him.

  He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his wiry black hair. ‘Half are walking wounded and can hobble out of here, but the rest will have to be put on wagons if they are to survive.’

  ‘It’s decided then,’ I said. ‘We will leave no one behind to fall into the hands of Mithridates.’

  ‘When will the horse break out, at dawn?’ asked Domitus.

  I shook my head. ‘No, I will request a meeting with Mithridates first. That will give Orodes time to organise his breakout attempt.’

  Orodes looked at me and was about to protest but I froze him with a glare. I esteemed him one of my closest friends but we were fighting for our very existence and I had no time for ridiculous notions of honour, especially not when it came to creatures such as Mithridates.

  It was now past midnight and there was nothing else to say. There would be no sleep for any of us, though, as we all still had work to do. Alcaeus and Marcus would have to construct wooden roofs over the wagons that would carry the wounded, because once we were on the march we would be constantly harassed by the enemy’s horse archers. I understood now why there had been none when we had fought the battle earlier. Narses was many things but he was no fool. He had clearly developed a strategy for dealing with us and thus far it had worked perfectly. But his war was only half won.

  Before I dismissed the council there was one more thing to attend to.

  ‘Surena, you are no longer an officer in the cataphracts.’

  The colour drained from his face at my words. His mouth opened but no words came, his eyes filled with hurt.

  ‘Orodes will lead the cavalry tomorrow but you will command the horse archers. Don’t let me down.’

  Where there was despair there was now triumph in Surena’s eyes, plus a certain amount of smugness. Domitus looked at me, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  ‘Remember, Surena,’ I added, ‘that you take orders from Orodes. I am entrusting you with three thousand men. Your task is to get them home safely.’

  His cockiness disappeared, for the moment. ‘Yes, lord.’

  The others filed out of the tent back to their commands. Domitus cornered me before I returned back to making my rounds of the camp.

  ‘You sure about promoting the puppy?’

  ‘He’s brave and well liked by the men. Besides, he’ll be useful directing a rear-guard.’

  ‘You are taking a risk.’

  I shrugged. ‘The position we are in, I have no choice.’

  I returned to walking round the perimeter of the camp, which by now was guarded by legionaries as well as squires armed with bows. The camp was ringed by a multitude of campfires spreading far into the distance. All of the enemy’s foot soldiers would be sleeping on the ground round their fires, the horse archers too. Only the cataphracts and the senior officers would sleep in tents on carpets and soft pillows, with the royal pavilions being the most luxurious. As I stood on the southern rampart staring at the two large pavilions that housed Mithridates and Narses I toyed with the idea of launching a large-scale night attack against them, but the ground between us and them was carpeted with sentries and sleeping soldiers. Even if we got to the pavilions there would be more troops to tackle. I dismissed the idea.

  I saw a movement ahead and instinctively gripped the hilt of my sword. Was the enemy making a night assault? The squire next to me, a tall, skinny youth, brought up his bow and drew back the bowstring, which was nocked with an arrow. A hare ran towards us and then bolted right along the ditch and disappeared. I relaxed and laid a hand on the squire’s shoulder.

  ‘You can put down your bow, now.’

  So focused had he been on scanning the ground in front of the ditch that he had not realised that I stood next to him. He grunted and released the strain on his bowstring. His eyes opened wide when he recognised me.

  ‘Apologies, majesty, I did not realise…’

  ‘No need to apologise for being a good sentry,’ I reassured him. ‘How long have you been a squire?’

  ‘Eighteen months, majesty,’ he said proudly.

  It normally took four years before a squire was fully trained and old enough to become a cataphract, usually when he turned eighteen years of age. They began their training at fourteen and not all of them made it; the lazy, stupid and untrustworthy being weeded out in the first year. This youth had obviously been assessed as being capable of achieving membership of Dura’s horsed élite.

  ‘What are your ambitions?’ I asked him.

  ‘To become a cataphract and marry an Amazon,’ he said proudly.

  ‘Noble aims,’ I replied, ‘I’m sure you will fulfil them.’

  At least he would be riding with Orodes and Surena tomorrow, and would have a chance of seeing his home again. I prayed to Shamash that He would also grant me the same privilege. But I was sure that I was making the right decision regarding sending the horsemen away.

  And still the wretched kettledrums kept playing.

  Dawn came all too soon. I had slept for perhaps two hours at the most when I rose and stretched my legs outside the tent. The sky was overcast and grey, the temperature cool. I went back inside to retrieve my cloak and then walked over to the stable area. The stables themselves were made of canvas stretched over wooden frames making up the stalls. Wicker panels had been fastened together to form a slanting roof over them and the horses. Thus
on campaign they were sheltered from the elements. The camels and mules were corralled in a separate area but had no individual stalls. Already there was a great bustle of activity in and around the horses as squires, their masters and horse archers checked their mounts. Whether king or squire the routine was the same each morning: the horses were watered and fed and then checked for scrapes, cuts, bruises and puncture wounds on their legs, heads and bodies. Each of the hooves was then checked to see if the iron shoes had worked themselves loose, especially after the exertions of battle. Finally their coats were groomed. This is especially important for horses that are saddled most of the day to keep their coats healthy. Horses that required shoeing were taken to farriers while veterinaries attended to those that were wounded.

  After I had ensured that Remus was fit for duty I searched out Orodes, finding him mucking out his brown mare. I stood at the entrance to the stall as he heaped fresh dung into a wheelbarrow.

  ‘I’m sure your brother does not undertake such duties.’

  He looked up. ‘Stepbrother,’ he reminded me.

  ‘I would ask a favour of you.’

  He leaned his spade against the wheelbarrow. ‘If it is within my power, consider it done.’

  ‘I want you to take Remus with you when you strike out for the Euphrates. I know you will take care of him.’

  His concerned look resurfaced. ‘What will you ride?’

  ‘Nothing. I intend to walk like the rest of the men.’

  He walked over to face me, whispering so no one else could hear our conversation. ‘Are you sure about your plan, Pacorus? We could always fight the enemy today, here.’

  ‘We cannot afford to suffer losses whereas Narses can always send for more reinforcements from Ctesiphon. We have to retreat, distasteful though it may be.’

  He voiced no protest and I hoped that he saw the merits of my plan. He cocked his head.

  ‘Do you hear that?’

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ I replied.

  ‘Exactly, those wretched kettledrums have finally stopped.’

  He was right. At least that was one thing to be thankful for. I returned to the command tent where Domitus was chewing on salted beef.

  ‘It’s very quiet,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, peace at last.’

  Outside the camp was coming alive as men formed up for morning assembly and to relieve the sentries posted around the perimeter. The main entrance to the camp was on the western side, the exit from which Orodes would lead the cavalry, but there were other minor exits at the other three points of the compass. They were all blocked by sharpened stakes driven into the ground and pointing towards the enemy at an angle of forty-five degrees, while immediately behind them was a line of wagons.

  A sentry walked in and saluted.

  ‘The enemy have sent a courier under a flag of truce to the southern gate, majesty.’

  ‘Courier?’

  ‘Yes, majesty. King Mithridates requests a meeting with you.’

  ‘Perhaps he wants to surrender,’ said Domitus.

  I laughed. ‘Perhaps he does.’ I rose from the chair and stretched out my arms. I felt tired, stiff and dirty.

  ‘Send a message back that I will meet with the king in one hour.’

  The guard saluted and left. I filled a cup with water and drank it. The liquid was tepid and unappetising.

  ‘I wonder what he wants?’ mused Domitus, who was now sharpening his gladius with a stone, running it along each of its edges and then admiring his handiwork.

  ‘To gloat I would imagine. Still, an hour will give Orodes more time to prepare his men.’

  I informed Orodes that his stepbrother had requested a meeting and asked whether he wanted to accompany me. He declined, stating that he might be tempted to break the rules of parley and kill Mithridates, and such a breach of the code of honour would be intolerable for him to endure. Same old Orodes. So I took Surena along, who borrowed Orodes’ shimmering cuirass of silver scales and a helmet from a horse archer, with cheek guards but no face covering. He had also cadged a pristine long-sleeved white shirt off someone as his own was filthy from yesterday’s battle. Red leggings and brown boots completed his appearance. I had to admit that Surena looked every inch a senior officer as we rode from the camp to meet my nemesis. We both carried our bows in cases dangling from our saddles and like me Surena was also armed with a spatha. Like my own it had been taken off a dead Roman; mine from a fallen foe in Italy, his from a slain cavalryman in Parthia.

  I wore my usual attire of Roman helmet with its white goose feather crest, Roman cuirass, white shirt, brown leggings and leather boots. I took an escort of a dozen horse archers. Orodes said I should take more but I saw little point. Mithridates was a murderer and liar it was true, but he would be confident that he had me where he wanted me. He would be interested in torturing me with his words and nothing more, at least for the moment. So we rode from the southern entrance under a mournful grey sky with the army of the king of kings arrayed before us. Mithridates and Narses were obviously keen to taunt me as they already waited on their immaculately groomed black horses, surrounded by at least a hundred cataphracts. Members of Narses’ foot guards stood in two blocks either side of the heavy horsemen and behind the two kings their standards hung limply from their poles, not a sniff of wind to disturb them. Servants held the reins of the kings’ horses, young boys no older than sixteen years dressed in red silk shirts and baggy yellow trousers, gold earrings dangling from their ears.

  We walked our horses to the meeting point halfway between our ditch and the enemy camp, or at least the southern part of it. Surena was eager to gallop across the barren ground, no doubt to clap eyes on the king of kings and his lord high general. He rode on my right and fidgeted in his saddle.

  ‘Calm yourself, Surena, it is unbecoming to act like an excited child during a meeting of kings.’

  He had heard much about Mithridates and Narses over the past few years and had even visited the palace at Ctesiphon following my abortive campaign in Gordyene. But he had never actually laid eyes upon either of them. I could tell that he was most curious to see them up close.

  ‘And keep your tongue in check,’ I reminded him. ‘They may be our enemies but we must retain our dignity and manners even in the face of provocation.’

  ‘Yes, lord.’

  ‘And don’t provoke them,’ I added. ‘I know your propensity for acting rashly. Just remember they are kings and you are not. Listen and learn, Surena.’

  ‘Not much chance of that,’ said Vagharsh from behind us, as ever carrying my griffin banner.

  When we were around fifty paces from Mithridates and Narses they both waved away the boys holding their mounts and nudged their horses forward. I signalled to Vagharsh and the horse archers to halt as Surena and I continued to walk our horses forward. We halted around ten paces from Mithridates and Narses and I brought my hands forward in front of my body and rested each one on the two front horns of the saddle. Thus could my enemies see that my hands held no weapons. I scowled at Surena when I saw that his left hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, and nodded down at my own hands, then his for him to do the same. Mithridates and Narses looked on in contempt as he finally worked out what to do and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.

  There were no greetings or smiles as I looked at Mithridates and then Narses, the latter a more imposing and authoritative figure than the high king; indeed, Mithridates could have been mistaken for one of Narses’ junior officers. As usual he was dressed in a black long-sleeved tunic, over which he wore a cuirass of silver scale armour, black leggings, black boots and at his left hip a sword held in a black scabbard decorated with silver leaf. He wore a richly adorned helmet on his head that fully encompassed his narrow, reptilian face. He hadn’t changed in all the years since I had first encountered him at Esfahan where the kings of the empire had elected his father to the high crown. His beard was still neatly trimmed and his eyes were still black and devoid of feeli
ng. I also had no doubt that he was positively gloating over my predicament.

  The King of Persis and Sakastan had also changed little since the last time I had the misfortune of meeting him. His pale face showed no signs of ageing and his shoulders were as broad as ever. Like Mithridates, Narses had a well-groomed beard and his brown eyes were as calculating and condescending as ever. His powerful frame contrasted sharply to the slim build of the high king, as did his big round face with its broad forehead compared to the narrow face and long, pointed jaw line of Mithridates.

  Mithridates curled his lip at Surena. ‘Who’s this, another one of your slave soldiers?’

  I did not rise to the bait. ‘This is Surena, a trusted and loyal subordinate.’

  Mithridates smiled maliciously. ‘Where is my brother, has he seen sense and deserted you?’

  ‘Your stepbrother is in camp. He ate something last night that disagreed with him and feared that seeing you might make him feel worse.’

  Surena laughed and Mithridates glowered at him. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Surena, no doubt making sure he remembered him.

  ‘What do you want, Mithridates?’ I asked, already growing tired of his company.

  ‘I called this meeting,’ he replied grandly, ‘to save further bloodshed.’

  Now it was my time to laugh. ‘I would have thought the spilling of Duran blood would fill you with relish, especially mine.’

  ‘Parthians do not engage in killing each other,’ he replied haughtily, ‘or at least they should not.’

  He was obviously alluding to my having been responsible for the deaths of King Porus of Sakastan and King Chosroes of Mesene. The former had died fighting me in battle and the latter had taken his own life when I had stormed his city of Uruk.

  ‘I fight only those who declare themselves to be my enemies,’ I said, ‘and seek to settle our differences on the battlefield. I never send assassins to do my work.’

  I detected a fleeting look of alarm in Mithridates’ eyes, to be instantly replaced with icy disdain. He turned to Narses.

  ‘I told you this would be a mistake.’